


Noise of the Unspoken

by Artyphex



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley.exe has stopped working, Flash Fic, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 00:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19897051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artyphex/pseuds/Artyphex
Summary: The silence that comes from unspoken words is hardly silent at all, and Aziraphale cannot stand it anymore.





	Noise of the Unspoken

There is something to be said about the strength of the unspoken. **  
**

Silences stop being truly silent. They instead become filled with the Unspoken, swirling and screaming in the space between conversations. One can try to speak again, but there will now be a weight around them, the Unspoken waiting to become spoken; hovering in the air, lurking in the backs of minds, banging on Bently windows. 

Such was the silence that filled that car the night after the world ended. In a restaurant or on the street, such silence is easier to bear, as the presence of other people and background noise making it easier to ignore. However in a car, as their conversation reaches its conclusion and the silence takes its natural place behind it, it becomes all either are able to hear. 

Crowley stops the car in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop, “Well,” he says to Aziraphale, “have a good night.” 

Aziraphale sits for a moment, “Right,” he says, turning towards the window, “Forgive me I just,” He looked into his bookshop, the shadowy shapes of the bookshelves and desks on the inside looking so inviting. 

_This can wait,_ whispered a voice in the back of Aziraphale’s head, _It’s waited so long, what’s one more night?_

“I don’t want to get out of the car just yet.” 

Crowley pauses, his eyes flicking between Aziraphale and the bookshop, “That’s alright,” he says, tapping the steering wheel, “Do you want to...listen to some music?” 

Aziraphale nods, “If you’d like.”

Crowley puts a C.D in, “ _Don’t Stop Me Now”_ starts playing. The tune of the song contrasted against the atmosphere of the car is dizzying.

Aziraphale clears his throat, “Crowley,” He says over the music, “I think...I think I have feelings for you.”

Crowley’s fingers, which had been ideally tapping the wheel to the tune of the song, stop. As does the music. Maybe. Aziraphale certainly can’t hear it anymore. 

“Feelings?” Crowley says. 

“Yes,” Says Aziraphale, looking not at the bookshop or Crowley, instead straight through the windshield at the busy nighttime streets of London. Desperately trying to find something neutral to ground himself to. 

“What...” Crowley _is_ staring at him however, Aziraphale doesn’t have to look to know, “What kind of ‘feelings?’“ 

“I think,” Painful as it can be, there is a certain amount of safety in keeping the Unspoken unspoken. It may hang heavy and scream and bang, but it can’t truly _hurt_ , not _really_ , not _yet_. One can get very used to the noise, one can even grow to rely on it.

Aziraphale looks back to Crowley, meeting his eyes as best he can through Crowley’s sunglasses, “I think I love you, Crowley.” 

There’s a long pause, Aziraphale, as much as he wants to turn back to the windshield, find comfort in staring instead at the streetlights and London shadows, keeps his eyes on Crowley. Completely motionless, Crowley. 

Crowley isn’t breathing, Aziraphale realizes, he’s genuinely forgotten. Neither is Aziraphale, he realizes a moment later.

The Unspoken has been spoken, and the silence is true silence now. A silence so thick and still the tiniest noise could sound like an explosion.

“Well, do say _something_ ,” Aziraphale said, his voice the explosion.

Crowley finally, _finally_ , blinks. He takes off his glasses and places them on the dashboard as if both are incredibly fragile. He wipes his eyes with his left thumb and forefinger, “Sorry,” he says, saying it as if it’s the first thing he’s said in a very long time, “Of all the ways I’d imagined this going...this wasn’t one of them.” 

“Sorry?” 

“Not that I never thought it’d happen in the car,” he continues as if Aziraphale never spoke, “I was pretty sure it would happen in the car, or in your shop, or my flat,” He muttered something to himself, “I was hoping it wouldn’t be my flat.” 

“Crowley-” 

“I just thought it’d be somewhere more private. A road in the countryside, stars above us, like one of those old movies you like. I’d have better music playing and maybe chocolates and wine or something and-” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s arm, and he stops rambling, “You’ve- thought about this?” 

“I-” Crowley swallowed hard, “A few times, yes.” 

“A few times...” Aziraphale echoed, “So, what does that mean?” 

“It means,” Crowley looked down at where Aziraphale’s hand touched his forearm, absentmindedly lifting his own hand to it, grabbing the tips of his fingers hesitantly, “Aziraphale, I...” 

Crowley holds Aziraphale’s fingers tighter, his own trembling, he runs his thumb over over Aziraphale’s knuckles, reassuring himself he’s really there, “Sixty years ago, you told me-” 

“I _know_ what I told you, Crowley,” Said Aziraphale, saying perhaps the greatest understatement he could have. He doesn’t just _know_ , he has the entire evening in his head, note by note. The glow of the neon signs, the sound of the cars on the street, the feeling of Crowley’s heart breaking. It likes to play out on its own when Aziraphale is trying to relax, “I’ve caught up now.”

“Oh,” Crowley says. 

Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley shook his head, his eyes heavy and drunk with love, “ _Aziraphale_.”

“Shh, dear,” he cupped the side of his face, pulling Crowley to him. Resting his forehead against his, and they stayed like that, enjoying a moment closer than they’d ever been, “Let’s go for a drive,” Aziraphale said, “Wherever you want to go.” 

Crowley held the hand against his cheek, pressing a slow kiss to the center of his palm, “Hold on, angel.”

He went back to the steering wheel, “ _Don’t Stop Me Now,_ ” played again in earnest, and they sped off. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit messy and technically breaks my rule of "nothing under 1,000 words gets posted to Archive" but I have a bit of a soft spot for it, and I wanted it somewhere a bit more permanent than Tumblr. I was trying to do something a little unique in terms of love confessions for these two and mirror the infamous "you go too fast for me" scene, not sure I actually succeeded, but it was a fun exercise all the same.
> 
> I discovered that writing these two is SO MUCH FUN. I still have a few more fics for these two in the works! If all goes well they may be the subjects of both my shortest and longest works on Archive.
> 
> (If you ask me "Why doesn't Crowley say I love you back?" I'd tell you vulnerability is hard for him and he's new to this when the actual answer is I originally DID write him saying it back but never got it to sound right so I negated it all together and now we have this)


End file.
